


Cursed Birthdays

by cruciel



Category: Fruits Basket
Genre: Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-03
Updated: 2010-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-05 17:12:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruciel/pseuds/cruciel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hatori was huge and billowing with stewing rage. He was very, very angry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cursed Birthdays

It was Hatori’s birthday.

Shigure approached the antique, traditionally built house of the Sohmas, one that was located to the east, tucked away from the rest of the heavy, squatting wings of the main building. He was humming a line from a pop song that refused to unglue itself from his head, clutching the warm sake bottle protectively from the bitter February winds.

He knew Hatori didn’t touch alcohol, not after that one time. Surprisingly, it had been a silent Ayame who had nudged him towards their childhood friend, folded on the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut suddenly. Shigure silently pitied Hatori’s weakness, couldn’t believe that Kana had been the strings that the silent man danced to. Ayame had pressed a large bottle full of deep amber liquid, something imported and very, very potent.

“Go on,” Ayame, golden eyes nudging him again, sliding to Hatori’s shivering form. “He’ll be tired from the memory-erasing. He has to forget. _Make_ him forget.”

Ayame, Shigure thought with a fond huff, who left him alone to deal with the consequences of one very drunk Hatori.  Irresponsible bastard of a snake.

Clever snake, though. People underestimated the willowy man too often, didn’t see past the obvious tactlessness of a drama queen. It was a defence mechanism. Of a sort.

And the house shook.

Shigure blinked, wondering if his melodramatic turn of mind had sent the wrong chemical signal to his eyes.

The house shook again, this time accompanied by a jagged, ripping sound. Shigure stared at the roof, which tore itself from the main frame of Hatori’s house and sank back down on the main frame ponderously. Shigure glanced at the bottle. He didn’t remember drinking from this. Well. Not today, anyway. Yuki had kept an eye on him.

“But I don’t UNDERSTAND, Tori-san!” Ayame’s voice boomed, nearly dislodging the roof this time. “It mustn’t BE like this! We were destined to be together! As the bright stars that light up the gloom of this cursed family! It is breaking all the rules of courtship! It is breaking my quivering HEART, Tori-san!”

Shigure glanced at the staring members of the household and family with growing panic. He ran inside and slammed the door open, mind racing. Aya didn’t…

He *did*, the dragon’s narrow-eyed glare told him. Shigure felt very, very tired for some reason. Hatori was huge and billowing with stewing rage. He was very, very angry.

There were two rules of the Sohma curse in transforming, the second being that the Cursed changed form when put under extreme stress. It seemed that the curse was indefinite about the _amount_ of stress involved. Poor Hatsuharu suffered this a lot, especially when he turned black. The sight of an enormous, rampaging Bull causing carnage in the streets alone had Hatori employed full-time for a week in memory erasing.

“In the name of all the animals _and_ the cat, Aya,” he groaned at the silver-haired man, “What have you done? And I thought you gave up that maid outfit in High School!”

Ayame sniffed dramatically, fishing out a lacy handkerchief and dabbing at his eyes.

“I came early to wish our dear Tori-san a happy birthday! And what gift I bring, you ask! It was an act of love that cannot be bought with gold or silver! I, yes, *I* alone came armed with the best of the cleaning products available in this district, to make this dull, dreary place into a fantastical kingdom fit for a PRINCE! Do not look so touched, Gure-san! Tori-san was SPEECHLESS with joy- see that curtain in Bursting Cranberry? Weeks, no, MONTHS were spent in getting the colour exact! Mine is a genius, hahaha! You see, it goes SO well with the venus fly-traps, so daring and protective, just like our Tori-san! Who, as his domain slowly transformed, stood trembling with shock that a friend would go such distance to prove his devotion! Heated, HEATED words were exchanged, then suddenly, as I declared my love Tori-san CHANGED, Gure! Isn’t he in fine form, not that tiny imitation of such greatness? I do not understand why he chose such colour to clash so terribly with the Exploding Citrus walls, but that’s Tori for you! Which reminds me,” the lacy scrap of cloth was thrown away as Ayame posed dramatically. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY TORI-SAN! HAHAHAHAHA!”

Hatori-dragon bared his impressive fangs, emitting a deep, warning growl. 

“RAHHH!”

“HAHAHA! YOU’RE WELCOME, TORI-SAN!”

Afraid that someone would get a concussion from the sheer miscommunication of it all, Shigure coughed. “Aya,” he said delicately, “Why don’t you go outside for a bit. You’ll catch your death in here.”

Ayame blinked. “But it’s cold outside, Gure-san.”

“Get in the main hall, then. It’s nice and warm.” Thank God that Hatori was an Eastern Ryu, not the princess-kidnapping-knights-toasting type. “I’ll fix this. Go on.”

Ayame nodded and went out, closing the door thoughtfully behind him.

Shigure sat down on the mat, put the sake bottle down, and rested his chin on one hand. Hatori-dragon moved restlessly, pewter grey scales rasping against each other as he coiled himself into a more comfortable position, silver tail swishing furiously.

*FIX IT*, the glare said.

Shigure knew he had to be diplomatic here.        

He smirked.

“Nice scales, Haa-san.”


End file.
